


Animal

by orlesiantitans



Series: 100 Themes [4]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Not Trespasser Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlesiantitans/pseuds/orlesiantitans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He left me. Have you been left before? Probably, you’re a wolf without a pack,” she shook her head. “My lover left me. Ma vhenan. Didn’t give me an explanation, nothing at all, he just… left. And it hurt me. Deeply.”</p><p>The wolf whined slightly and she shook her head. She pulled back and scratched him between the ears, but she was more intrigued by his eyes, big and blue and… familiar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Animal

Ellana sighed and lay on her back, placing the papers next to her on the ground. It was the warmest day they’d had in months, and already beads of sweat were forming on her forehead. She’d not brought any water with her- a move she was beginning to regret- however, the thought of going back in to get some would no doubt dent her pride. Dorian already teased her about her lack of tolerance for the heat, prodding her in the side and whispering ‘southern softie’ whenever she did voice any complaints. **  
**

She wasn’t sure what it was that alerted her to his presence. Likely, it was her hunter’s instincts taking over, letting her know she was being watched. For the Inquisitor, it was not _unusual_ to be watched, mind you. But she knew for a fact that the garden had been empty when she’d gone out, the nobles preferring the slightly cooler air of the interior of Skyhold to the stuffy, oppressive air outside.

Slowly, her muscles tensed, senses sharpened. It was with the grace and silence of a huntress that she stood, hand automatically going to rest just above the knife hidden at her thigh. Her eyes flickered left, then slowly swept to the right before she began to turn, noticing it in her peripheries. Standing still, watching her as carefully as she watched it, was a very large, white wolf.

She frowned.

Granted, she’d only been out of the Free Marches a little over a year, but she knew enough of Ferelden to know they did not have _white wolves._ Fair enough, Orlais was close, but even there they were rare. In fact, she hadn’t known of many white wolves south of the Anderfels, and the few that did exist didn’t dare be seen for fear of being turned into some Orlesian woman’s fancy jacket.

Beyond that, its’ eyes were _blue_. She knew of some wolves that retained their blue eyes beyond their first year, but they were even rarer than the white wolves themselves. The fact that this was not only a white wolf as far south as it was, combined with _freakishly intelligent_ blue eyes lead her to believe that it was not, in fact, a normal wolf.

She took a step forwards, slow as to avoid spooking it, but also in order to ensure her weight was distributed to the balls of her feet. If the wolf decided to attack, she’d need a quick escape, and the tree ahead of her was undoubtedly the best option. But instead of the wolf moving towards her, it moved backwards, whimpering slightly.

“What _are_ you?” she whispered. It whimpered again, and she tilted her head to the side, reaching out a hand.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

But it was either less intelligent than she thought, or simply timid, for it ran off into the woods behind it within a second. She sighed and sat back on the ground, picking up her papers again and moving her quill across the pages as she scanned them with practiced precision.

* * *

The second time she saw the wolf, she was out in the forest alone.

She loved Skyhold, and all her friends, she truly did; but even those closest to her could be stifling at times. Seeing people every day could be lovely, but it was also ridiculously frustrating. She needed time alone, out in nature, as things had been before the Conclave. Therefore, it was no surprise to any of her advisors when she packed up one morning, announced that she’d be back in a few days, and set out on a trip.

It was meant to be simple- a quick trip out of Skyhold to the Hinterlands, where she’d camp on the outskirts for a few days before returning back refreshed and relaxed. She’d done it a million times, with only slight variations on the location, and she thought she’d be safe. The Red Templars were all but gone, and the Venatori had skulked back to Tevinter the moment Corypheus had been defeated. She _should_ have been safe, but then was the Inquisitor ever entirely safe?

“Pretty little elf, I’ll give her that. Could fetch quite a nice price on the market. Can’t help but feel like she’s familiar, though.”

Ellana rolled her eyes. Could he really be _that_ stupid? They had _plates_ with her face on them _all over_ Orlais, and these men still didn’t know who she was? But that little show of rebellion was apparently not going to go unnoticed, as the larger man proceeded to backhand her. Her mouth filled with the taste of blood, and she had to physically force herself not to gag.

She’d not been watching closely enough, and she supposed it was therefore her fault she’d been caught. Usually, she was careful beyond what she needed to be- runes and traps around her small camp to protect her from animals and some attackers, and to warn her of the more powerful ones. But she’d been so _tired_ when she’d arrived at her camp that she’d just wanted to sleep. She’d never had any trouble before, so instead of setting up her spells, she set out her bedroll and went to sleep.

Only to be woken by around seven armored Tevinter slavers an hour later, chained up against a tree and cursing the fact she hadn’t inherited her mother’s magical abilities.

“Knife-eared bitch. They’ll _beat_ that attitude out of you where you’re going,” breathed one of the men, leaning in close to her face. She forced her face not to scrunch up against the assault of her breath, stinking as it was, instead keeping herself impassive, unaffected.

She’d hoped that a facade of calm would protect her until they were out in public- even violent slavers wouldn’t be able to stand up to the Inquisition’s forces positioned at two camps near the mouth of the forest- and certainly not when said forces noticed they had the Inquisitor herself in tow. But instead of ignoring her and going back to their preparations, they moved closer, nasty snarls on their faces.

“We could always start now, boss,” one of the women piped up, arms crossed in front of her. The largest man nodded his agreement.

“Indeed. The magister will not want a disobedient slave.”

And with that, they began to kick and punch- though she doubted it was for her ‘obedience’. They were taking far too much pleasure in the violence. It tore through her, but she refused to cry out. She’d had worse, but she could feel her consciousness fading as her body attempted to shield her from further pain.

Their attention was not held by her for long, however. A snarl came from their left, and she turned just in time to see the wolf- and she was certain it had to be the one she’d seen at Skyhold all those months ago- running into the clearing, tearing at the throats of the men without thought. She sat back, wide eyed, and watched as it tore through them with ease, approaching the last one- the woman who’d suggested the initial violence. Ellana could feel her consciousness fade further after that, until it was almost gone. She decided later that delirium must have set in at that moment as well, as she could have sworn she heard Solas near her, undoing her bonds and whispering in her ear, “It’s alright now, vhenan. You’re safe.”

She woke up not long after in her tent, runes placed around the camp and her face healed, as though nothing had happened.

* * *

After that incident, Ellana was told in no uncertain terms that if she wanted to go out, she was to take a small group of her inner circle with her. Dorian had stood and cursed (rather creatively, judging by how long it went on for) in Tevene, and complained about how some of his countrymen needed to understand not _all_ elves were for their picking. Fortunately, Iron Bull had thrown him over his shoulder halfway through his rant and told Ellana that he’d make sure Dorian worked off some of his anger in a more productive way, causing Dorian to shout in embarrassment and Ellana to flush a deep red.

The months after that passed in reasonable quiet. Some of the Inner Circle began to leave, due to Corypheus’ threat being over. Blackwall packed up to go to the Grey Wardens with a kiss to her hand and a deep bow. Dorian had left for Tevinter, an escort of one Qunari and his Chargers taking him there. Cassandra went to rebuild the Seekers, Leliana went to become Divine, Varric went back to Kirkwall, and Ellana watched them all go until all that was left was herself, Cullen, Josephine, Sera and Cole.

Cullen and Josie were there to keep the Inquisition running, but Ellana knew Josie would have to return to Antiva at some point- and the trainee ambassador she had was only further proof of that.

Cullen had told her that he didn’t intend to leave any time soon, that- Maker willing- he’d stay for as long as the Inquisition was active. Sera had point-blank told her that she’d need someone around to keep her sane, and Cole had just taken her hand and told her he wouldn’t hurt her further.

Regardless, her friends leaving did hurt. She knew she’d get letters, and that they’d visit, but she was still largely alone. And being alone made her think of Solas, how he’d left without a goodbye.

_“You were right to be angry. I hope, in time, you will understand.”_

But she didn’t understand. He hadn’t given her the chance to understand. He’d left, no explanations, nothing.

And it just made her more angry.

She often sat on the sofa in his rotunda, largely untouched since he’d left. A book lying open on the table, chair out at a slight angle, notes scattered. The last word of a sentence left unfinished- he’d left in a hurry to assist when Corypheus began his assault.

It was after the last of her companions departed that she went into that room and, in a fit of anger, swept everything off the desk. It lay on the floor, touched for the first time since he’d gone, and she sank down with it, head in her hands.

“You bastard,” she growled, curling into a loosely formed ball.

“You bastard. What was so _awful_ you couldn’t tell me?” she shook her head and stood, storming out of the room. Ignoring the titters of the nobles as she walked past them with furious tears in her eyes _(How improper! The Inquisitor, crying in public!)_ , she went out to the garden- and through there, into the woods.

She’d barely entered when she slid down next to a tree, tears sliding down her face and sobs escaping her throat. They were near-silent, causing tremors to run through her entire body, and she shook her head.

She heard footsteps nearby and looked up, not bothering to clean her face. Half of Skyhold already knew she was upset, she wouldn’t be surprised if she was called into the War Room that night so that Cullen and Josephine could interrogate her. But instead of a person, as she’d suspected, she saw her wolf.

“You really have wonderful timing,” she muttered, leaning back against the tree. He butted his nose against her hand, and she let out a choked laugh.

“You also don’t make any sense. You act like a puppy, not a wolf. You’re supposed to want to eat me, not befriend me,” she sighed, and he looked like he wanted to laugh at her, a wolfish grin appearing on his face.

They sat in silence for a moment, and she leaned forwards, burying her head in his fur despite her instincts telling her not to.

“He left me. Have you been left before? Probably, you’re a wolf without a pack,” she shook her head. “My lover left me. _Ma vhenan._ Didn’t give me an explanation, nothing at all, he just… left. And it hurt me. Deeply.”

The wolf whined slightly and she shook her head. She pulled back and scratched him between the ears, but she was more intrigued by his eyes, big and blue and… familiar. It took her a few moments, and she felt the tug in her brain that was the Well of Sorrows, begging her for a chance to talk. She’d come to master them in the time since she’d received them, shutting them away until they were needed. But they were clawing at her carefully constructed walls, begging to come out, and she knew she had to appease them.

_“Fen’harel, the Dread Wolf. He hides behind the mask of pride, a mockery of himself, an attempt to right past wrongs. Fen’harel…”_

She stared at the wolf and moved back a fraction. The Dread Wolf? Impossible. But then, perhaps not. She’d already met Mythal, who was to say Fen’harel wasn’t roaming the world still? But even if he was… why this interest in her?

_May the Dread Wolf never catch your scent, da’len._

Words spoken from Keeper Lavellan to a younger elf, long ago, before she set off to the Conclave to see if the shems would be able to fix the mess they had created. Before she was raised up as their Herald, before she lost her Clan to bandits, before she lost everything.

_He hides behind the mask of pride._

She froze, staring at the Wolf. He tilted his head to the side in confusion, and her hands moved to cover her mouth.

Pride. _Solas_.

“Fen’harel,” she whispered, and the wolf froze in response. She let out a choked sound, and reached out a hand to touch his fur.

“Solas,” her voice was only a breath that time, but he tensed further beneath her touch. She stared at him. He stared back. And then he shifted beneath her hands, changing before her into the man she thought she knew. She moved back then, standing, hands grasping the tree behind her.

There was no doubt it was Solas. He was the same, in many ways. Same face, same poise, same eyes. His hair had grown out- no longer was he the bald apostate she had known. His hair was long, longer than it should have come to be in the relatively short period of time they’d been apart, hanging in dreadlocks around his face. His clothing, once simple and plain, was now composed of long, dark robes, covered in patterns she didn’t recognize and gems she’d be hard-pressed to name. She could help the terrified noise that escaped her throat- the man she’d loved, lain with, he was the Dread Wolf in disguise.

And he currently stood, the all powerful Trickster god, with his hand outstretched and his expression pained, as though unsure if he was allowed to touch her.

“ _Vhenan_.”

His voice was one of reverence, a prayer on his lips. She flinched and shook her head.

“Don’t you _dare_.”

He paused and pulled back, his hands by his sides as he schooled his expression into one of neutrality.

“I apologize, Inquisitor.”

And that was her breaking point, the painful politeness he’d addressed her with after he’d left her. She moved forwards, shaking all over in barely suppressed fury and fear (there was a fair amount of that too- this was the man she’d spent her nights afraid of as a child) before she slapped him across the face. His head snapped to the side and his hand went up to touch the swiftly reddening skin there.

“Once, you would have been executed for that,” he muttered, though there was no malice in it. Only sadness. “If I’d let them touch you, that is.”

She shook her head as more tears began to fall from her eyes.

“You spend a year pretending to be someone you’re not. Someone I could love, who would love me in return. You were always distant, but I thought that was part of your charm. But no, you were hiding this from me. You were hiding the fact you’re the damn Dread Wolf from me. You’re the one who destroyed my people! You killed the Old Gods, and no doubt danced on their ashes after doing so!” she yelled. He raised his palms to cover his eyes.

  
“Another one of the childish tales the Dalish told you, no doubt.”

She stared at him in shock. The fact that, after all this, he had the nerve to insult her people was… beyond ridiculous. She growled in frustration and folded her arms across her chest.

“Why don’t you tell me what _really_ happened then, _Dread Wolf_?”

He paused, and shook his head.

“There isn’t enough time, Vhen- Ellana. After this… I cannot watch over you forever. I have something I must do, for all elves, something I’ve already begun. I won’t ask you how you know my name- I have a feeling it has something to do with the power of the Well- but I will say that I fear the next time we meet will not be pleasant. I will lose you. You will hate me. And I will have to face the Inquisition and the power of your wrath from a side I wish I didn’t have to be on. And I’m sorry that is how it must be.”

She moved forwards, “Take me with you. Let me help you. We can have the force of the Inquisition behind us and we’d be together.”

“I can’t.”

Her eyes moved to the ground and she shook her head with a sigh, looking up at him.

“I wish I could. You don’t know how much… I wish I could live in a world where we could be happy together, where we could have a family. But I am not that… I can not be that man. No matter how much I wish I could be.”

He leaned forwards and pressed his lips over hers. It was chaste, it barely lasted a moment, and when she opened her eyes, he was gone.

Once again, she crumpled to the ground, and this time there was no one there to interrupt as she sobbed, her chest fit to burst with the pain and betrayal he’d inflicted.


End file.
